Letters to HITA
1.
Last night I had the UR dream of falling in love with the unavailable woman. She ended up going into a mental hospital (her parents sent her there) and I went walking and climbing in an abstract landscape, isolated from any humans
all the time trying to recreate the letter and the spirit of this penultimate love experience. This dream seemed to help me
incorporate the traveling in Berlin and Antwerp-overcome the feeling that too much has come into a relentless stimulation of all my senses.
11/20/23
Saundra Fleming, Antwerp
2.
Dear HITA,
One day, when I was three years of age, my mother showed up with
large purse which had a peacock emblazoned on it and detailed with
rhinestones about the size of my baby fist: aquamarine, red garnet,
golden topaz, and emeralds. I was entranced by their sparkles of light;
And all of this quite amazing when I suddenly realized
my forlorn little box of crayons, when employed on paper in such a manner
(Yet to be discovered by me), could be the carriers of such enchantments.
Tim Murphy
3.
A few weeks ago, a photographer asked my permission to take my picture. It was early, the city was empty, under a flawless sky. A city that takes no care of its inhabitants. Everything is laid out with a ruler, crisscrossed by trams, set upon strips of greenery, with stainless steel fountains. Businesses were closed, because of the “New World.”
Why talk about this moment? Because this man simply photographs people within, with attention and care.
I enjoyed this encounter. First, because it’s good to talk. But also because of his unique approach to photography, the consistency of his photographic sensibility, and his affection for those he encounters. People like you and me, ordinary, going to work, resting on a bench, saying “no” under banners, people… I don’t photograph people; I take pictures of the empty city and this unfolding disaster. And I will continue. But there will be portraits too. In kitchens, in parks, portraits that say we haven’t disappeared. Not yet. (a-r maleval)